Dark Woods Circus
by Catoptrophobia
Summary: They do not return home. The Dark Woods Circus claims more victims.


Dark Woods Circus

_Prompt: __Dark Woods Circus by _Vocaloids

_Warning(s): Dark themes, disturbing imagery, violence, mutiple character deaths  
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_Summary: _They do not return home. The Dark Woods Circus claims more victims.

_By Cat_

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Within one of the cages is a young girl. She's wrapped in bandages; when the wind howls, she screams. A cloth is tied tightly around her head, blocking her sight, with another of its kind stuffed into her mouth. She spits it out though, cries out. Sometimes, if the moon is completely full, she will fling her head back, and those who frequent her cage will spot the red gems embedded in her forehead, before her gold-copper hair falls back into place, and she goes silent, staring at nothingness. The spectators become unnerved and many continue on to the next cage.

Those that are left continue to stare at her, sure they've just seen the flash of aquamarine jewels behind the blindfold. One even reaches his hand inside, curiosity making him greedy. From far away, his scream of pain is almost completely drowned out by the sound of a far too loud, sickening _crunch_.

The cage after that contains a wonder of a man. Flames surround his body and his emerald eyes _burn _as he glares at his guests. Ears, more pointed than round, can be seen beneath his long, red hair. For the most part, he is sullen and silent.

But, the moment he sees blonde hair he is up. Like a lion he paces the cage, desperately trying to keep that blonde head in view all the while. The ground beneath his feet smokes, and scorch marks can be found everywhere. If the blonde comes close enough, he reaches out between the bars.

The moment he does, though, his hand disintegrates to ash—it returns to normal only when he pulls it back into the cage. He turns away in disappointment, and the crowd sees the crimson blood that oozes from the long lashes that cut into his flesh.

The blonde, who is a particularly cruel boy, comes close time and time again, only to dance out of the freak's grip each time.

Should the guests stray from the cages outside to the big top, they find themselves immersed in a spectacular show.

Here a boy clothed in red throws swords into the air, catching them with his bare palms. He doesn't seem to notice when the blades cut into his skin, doesn't seem to care. He just keeps throwing them up, higher and higher. Higher and higher. A severed finger _thumps _to the ground.

There a blonde hair girl is tied up, reminiscent of Christ upon the stake. Nails are driven into her palms, feet, and throughout it all she smiles. She spins 'round and 'round on the wheel she is pressed against, red lines zigzagging down her hands and into the folds of her clothes. Angel wings spread out behind her, spinning with her. On each side of her is a torch, and the scent of burning feathers permeates the air.

Here a child and woman, apparently brother and sister, stand on display. A small booth is set up, and for a few dollars you can throw tomatoes at them. If you're willing to spend ten more, you get five knives to throw. It's only when one cries out in pain and the blood spills to the ground that you realize the knives aren't fake. Funny thing is: you can't seem to stop. The boy falls first, succumbing to the pain with a weak gasp. His sister stands there, rigid, and scars criss-cross her exposed face and neck. She's been doing this much longer, after all.

Next another woman walks to the stage, several dangerous monsters following behind her. Each takes a hold of her arm, and a giant fox settles for her head. Everyone thinks it funny and cute, how they drag her hither and there. Then there's a loud crunch and one comes away with her right arm. The fox stares at her, then gently licks her face. It must not be real; it's an elaborate illusion. The fox tears out her heart, blood pouring from her ravaged breasts, and the stage falls dark.

When it is illuminated once more, a man dressed rather flamboyantly stands. Like the blonde girl before him, he too must endure nails driven into his hands and feet. But, unlike her, he watches a woman similar to him in appearance be put through cruel acts. She's pushed here and there, and the people finally laugh, thinking it to be a play. When she suddenly falls and does not return to her feet—only then does he break free of the nails, holes completely through both sides as he rushes to her side. Fire surrounds them, and you can't see them for the smoke.

After that show is a strong man. He walks out, handcuffed. The children who sit in the front row are allowed closer; go ahead and get nearer. He'll break the handcuffs in half, the ringmaster promises, and that show must be seen close up. The tall man is blindfolded, and the children gather close in anticipation. When the chains snap and the children gasp in surprise and delight, he strikes out automatically. Their darling little heads are crushed, and a pink-haired child who looks to be their age comes out next.

She stares at the world with solemn eyes, and the crowd is silent. They wait and watch; she torturously raises an axe. The girl swings it in a wide arc and the man who killed those children is no more, cut in half by her spin. The others, the ones who still perform their own shows in the side rings, are also cleaved in half. The girl swings and swings and swing, an out-of-control clock. Then she stops and the axe continues, slicing her own head off. The stage goes dark for what the crowd knows is the final time.

The spotlight snaps on and points to a lone blonde who stands in the center of the stage. His gray eyes catch the light and reflect it beautifully, as he surveys the crowd confidently. He _must _be the ring master, given how he is dressed, and the crowd inches forward, as if that small distance can make all the difference in the world. He abruptly raises his arms and puts them to his face, almost seeming to cover it.

People bite their lips, suddenly hesitant. The young man smirks and with a soft squelching noise he plucks out first one eyeball then the other. Despite the empty sockets, he still proceeds to wipes them across his jacket, as if cleaning them before sticking them once more into his head. Those that are sitting closest gasp in amazement. When he blinks and opens his eyes, the ringmaster's eye colour is now scarlet. He blinks once more and smirks, bowing his head.

"Thank you," he cries out, "for visiting my circus." And the lights shut off.

There is a gentle _clip-clop_pingto be heard, and when the crowd can see once more, they see—nothing.

The forest before them is dark and eerie. A wolf howls in the distant, and the people are confused. It suddenly occurs to them that they have seen horrors. Some faint, some become violently ill, and others stare straight ahead. Then the crowd dissolves, people walking back to their houses, unsure of how they ever came to be in that place to begin with. And some, some hear the circus jingle, the gentle sound snaking through the air. They follow it, as if mesmerized.

They do not return home. The Dark Woods Circus claims more victims.

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Disclaimer— I do not own.


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